


Fire

by deadlocket



Series: Red Silk, Black Roads [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Character Study, Deadlock being kind of a badass, Origin Story, Other, Pre-Canon, snarkiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 00:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20183386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlocket/pseuds/deadlocket
Summary: Pre-canon look into Deadlock's character.





	Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!  
This story can be totally read alone, but this fic is written before the Drift series and Ten Years before Drift met Hot Rod in my WIP called “Red Silk, Black Roads”, its an AU that follows Drift’s experience illegal street racing/ drifting in Japan.  
so enjoy this totally weird way to start it off! 
> 
> For those who read Red Silk, Black Roads a month ago before I took it down for editing I just want to say thank you for giving a shot! I mentioned that I was an inexperienced story teller and that is still true, so bear with me through any awkwardness. P.S. I cannot handle transformers time units, so I’m gonna refer to it in reg time outside of dialogue please and thank you.
> 
> One more thing. Since this is a character study, this goes in depth in Drift as a Decepticon, so there is a little bit of violence in here. Please proceed with caution!!
> 
> EDIT: to anyone who is interested, I made a supplemental/ indulgent playlist. Please check it out! It even includes my own artwork : )  
https://8tracks.com/deadlocket/blow-em-to-dust  
or, here  
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLTHJjCPcUe_6NWlJt_ptt8-Q8V7CtZqCG

\---------------Memory Patch, 100% Complete, ---------------

\--------------- ... Sequencing… ---------------

A few coughs and awkward scraping filled in the silence behind Deadlock, who stood at the head of the line of Decepticon soldiers. Each, he’d chosen to back him into a unit transfer because of their talents in destruction. They were waiting at the entrance of a ship that he recognized to be a standard model, often used for its capability of covering vast distances of space in little time. How ironic it was, then, that Deadlock was beginning to look around at his surroundings impatiently from where they stood on the narrow bridge, waiting to be welcomed. He was on the verge of just shooting the door down, when finally, someone came for them.

Several of his companions leaned curiously out of line to watch as a lumbering, overly compact tank known as  _ Turmoil  _ met Deadlock in the middle of the ship’s bridge. The speedster smiled and put his hand out for a handshake, as was protocol from one exalted member to another, but when Turmoil only gestured his weaponized limb in his direction, he knew this wasn’t going to be an ideal mission.

“You’ll do. Come in, leave your crew, there’s only room for you here.” 

_ “ _ What? _ ”  _ It was hard to tell what Deadlock had heard was correct with the nonexistent intonation in the other person's speech.

“I’ve read your vessel’s roll call, it’s not at capacity.” Deadlock stared at the other mech critically.

“There’s only room for you here, leave them.” his new commander repeated.

_ Seriously? _ someone behind him whispered, a scoff or two rising from the squad.

“Thats...that’s ridiculous, are you really going to turn down more soldiers? I can personally argue for their skills, they were chosen out of my last thirty crew members.”

“If you wish to be overt, my last subordinate was killed because he did not follow instruction. I wish to get off to a better start than this, so I won’t ask again.”

He looked back at the dumbfounded expressions behind him, his own former second commander lifted a gun into a shrug. 

“You have to be kidding me.”

He turned back towards the tank only to face his own sneer, disgusted with how he could see it in Turmoil’s expressionless, visored face.

He hated him already.

  
  


Earlier that day, Deadlock tilted his chin to watch the monitor.

“Mmm...no, point the auxiliary stilt at surface net two, four. It needs to be precise, give it room.”

He tapped his fingers onto the edge of the console, watching the progress of the gradual power down of the blasters, lowering the ship down to surface the land. He held up a hand to halt. 

The black Decepticon’s form was was molded by weaponry. Dense in the shoulders inbuilt with firearms, and heavy in the pedes. Together, the modifications caused a prominent sway in his bearing. 

His pilot hurried to step out of Deadlocks path as he calibrated the systems to his likings, once he looked at the monitor again, he mumbled a quiet and appreciative “perfect _ .” _ at his work

It was noticeably beautiful day on the planet they were landing. The two ships, one of which was Deadlock’s own, prepared to rally under a clear sky.

Soundwave chimed into the room via communication screen.

“Deadlock: initiate landing.” 

“You got it,” Deadlock turned to his pilot “you heard the mech...easy now.”

Smooth as possible, Deadlock’s battalion landed down onto the ground to join the Nemesis.

“Look at it,” his pilot gestured to the legendary vessel “It’s literally blocking the sun, it’s enormous. Is the entire Decepticon army in there, or what?”

Deadlock beared down the console using both arms to support himself.

“Well, we aren't, ” he chuckled, “not yet at least.” 

In truth, he still remained in the dark about the basis of their summoning, but he took it upon himself to prepare as best as he could. The morning of their landing, Deadlock washed away all energon buildup encrusting his chassis as he thought about what the meeting would entail for himself.

Operating a battleship was one of Deadlock’s specialties. It was simple: track down your people, clean them out, repeat. But that didn’t mean it was easy. Him and everyone else couldn’t remember the last time they went so long not up to their spoilers in corpses, mechanical and organic alike. And what an occasion they were stopping for...uniting with their leader was an honor that was rarely had these days as the war matured into its final stages. 

However, Megatron didn’t call for a meeting for any reason. 

He had suspected-- _ hoped _ that Megatron was about to give him some kind of low profile mission, and an even smaller, more hopeful part of himself hoped to stay on the Nemesis.

But by the time Soundwave notified that he was due to give a special request, whatever Deadlock had expected or hoped for was off the table before he could say “touchdown”. 

While the couple dozen of his soldiers had the time of their lives, reuniting with old friends and rivals inside the behemoth vessel, Deadlock rested his elbows on his knees of the minimal seating area of a hallway, shutting away the world to smolder.

It wasn’t uncommon to see the reserved Decepticon in silent contemplation, but to openly omit anxiety in his EM field was. 

Soundwave told him that Lord Megatron demanded to speak with him.

Without any of his current team. 

Alone. 

The only other personalities in the room looked over and smirked in a way that forced Deadlock to acknowledge them. He was ready for the unexpected, and as of now, the unexpected came in the form of the two jets that abandoned their conversation about thruster types for the brooding visitor.

“What’s up with him?” a frank, baritone voice rang out in the empty hall.

Deadlock’s leer shifted to the thumb of a rather handsome seeker pointing in his direction and then another’s glinting face, which was beginning to grin harder as he and his trinemate swished over to where he rested. 

“Hey two-face! aren’t you going to at least acknowledge us? Don’t tell me ya’ have a thing against fliers.”

The black speedster sighed.

“...Thunderfragger, Shywarp,” Deadlock greeted them with a sarcastic combination of a polite tone and servos twirl. He seemed to relax when the seekers laughed at their given nicknames Deadlock had assigned them long ago. Somehow, he’d ended up waiting with these two, of all mechs. 

“What’s on ya’ mind?” Thundercracker asked more genuinely. 

Deadlock canted his head “I don’t want to jinx it...” 

Skywarp only shrugged. “I know what this is all about, I think it’s Starscream’s arrival back to the Nemesis…  _ finally _ ! Megatron knows that we know how to put on a good party, huh TC?” 

Thundercracker shuttered his optics at Skywarp, who was still excitedly bending at the knees, and sighed. “Sure, Warp... sure.” 

Deadlock went back to moodily staring at the floor. His intuition was telling him this was about as right as a mech with their muffler on backwards.

Judging by the way the two briefly shared a brush of their servos when they thought Deadlock wasn’t looking, there was no way they didn’t think there was something up, either. 

Skywarp opened his mouth again, only to be cut short when the towering doors in front of them cracked open just enough for a white and red mech to lean into attention.

“Hello boys! Just letting you know that Lord Megatron will be right with you, if you three could just be ready to,” he clenches his teeth in an attempt to be discreet “Be on your toes…! That would be lovely.” 

“Uh...Course, Knockout.” 

Knockout gave a devilish smile that only faltered when the crescendo of one of Megatron’s furious outcries escaped from the throne room. Deadlock hurried to stand from his seat between the two jets to attempt to get a good look inside.

Suddenly everyone  _ else’s _ field in the room swelled with dread at the knowledge that they were about to head helm first into one of Megatron’s legendary blow-ups.

“Someone gettin’ chewed out in there?” Thundercracker asked, 

“Apparent- _ ly _ .”

“Get these mechs out of my sight, they’re  _ useless _ .” Megatron banged his fist on something. Knockout looked back at the warlord to double-check he was the one being spoken to.

“ _ Now _ ? Megatron?” 

In the next couple of seconds, the trio hurried to gather into the nearly empty throne room, but not before running into the exiting bunch who looked thoroughly agitated from their experience. The look on their faces communicated that it was clearly their problem now. 

Inside, Soundwave stood to the side of the empty throne and their standing leader. The enormous Decepticon looked glorious in the way he guided the small medic Knockout through another set of instructions, silver armor fluid as he gestured and pointed.

Soundwave looked surprisingly distressed, touching his temple tenderly next to an uncomfortable Rumble, who seemed like he wanted to be anywhere but there.

“Megatron,” Deadlock dropped heavily down to kneel. The seekers momentarily looked over to each other after the dramatic display, and then kneeled themselves.

“Get up,” Megatron instructed. Which Deadlock did,  _ expectantly _ , despite the circumstances. 

“Do you know why I brought you here today…” 

The group intermittently zeroed in on their leaders twitching face, not wanting to answer and say the wrong thing. He had gathered the jets and Deadlock together, two parties that haven’t seen each other in the last five-hundred years.

He was somehow still hopeful that his reunion with Megatron could be redeemed from whatever trouble he thought him and the seekers had were in. 

The room remained silent until Skywarp spoke. 

“We need to overturn the balance between us and the Autobots.”

“Yes,” Megatron answered “And..?” his patience apparently dwindled to the point that he felt the need to talk to them as if they were sparklets. 

“Aren’t you wondering why Starscream hasn’t returned? He was only supposed to be gone for an  _ orn _ , after all, to do exactly that...” he supplied. 

In Deadlocks peripheral, both seekers wings dipped, half relieved that at least Starscream was alive, and half confused to what Megatron was trying to get them to confess. 

“My Lor-” Thundercracker started, a suggestion or solution ready on his lips.

“Your seeker  _ leader  _ has abandoned the cause.” Megatron continued “I had him go command a unit on Earth and next thing I know, he’s attempting to overthrow me with my own soldiers…” 

Skywarp and Thundercracker’s face was drained of any color by the time silence was scraped away by Megatron’s humorless laugh. 

“Now…” he turned away to perhaps let them process the news. 

Deadlock lowered his finials, somewhat disturbed from watching the emotional reactions of the high ranked aerial fighters. He’d feel sorry, if it wasn’t their fault for not dumping their shady trinemate while they could.

“Starscream….” he muttered, consciously ignoring the way the seekers dipped lower at the way he said the mech’s name.

He looked up at his lord with harded optic ridges, but his eyes were shining with submission. “But, wait. Don’t take this the wrong way, Megatron, I’m in no way questioning your way of doing things... but…why am I here?”

“Yes, Deadlock...the young talented one I rescued from those who were unworthy of you. You’ve since grown into the perfect Decepticon…”

“But even the most perfect of us can be misguided by those who think they know better than you, or me.” 

The three avoided Megatron’s optics during the following pause.

“To be clear, I’ve gathered you three and many others figure out if who had anything to do with Starscream and his traitorous act.” 

Deadlock shuttered his optics dejectedly.

“What do I have to do to prove my loyalty to you, Megatron.” 

Megatron was still taking his time how to deal with the trio when his third in command lassoed him into a private conversation. 

“I see...Deadlock. Soundwave tells me you’re pure in your beliefs.”

The black mech looked confused, and so did the other two jets.

“But- we didn’t do anything either!” Skywarp shouted.

In his peripheral, Deadlock could see Soundwave’s pulsating lights, he was staring back at him, watching their reactions.

Before Deadlock left Thundercracker and Skywarp to Megatron, his superior clapped a hand to Deadlocks frame.

“You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, Deadlock. That is all. Go continue your mission.” Deadlock managed a nod.

The seekers were not as fortunate. “As for you two, we will discuss your fate further, I’m sure Starscream will be thrilled to see you both, innocent or not.”

“Megatron,” Deadlock lowered his voice. Because his short time with his leader was already coming to a close, he had one shot for asking Megatron what he truly wanted before he was ushered out.

“I want to go to with you. Please, I need to be on the Nemesis, I could be doing so much more.”

“That is why you’ll be continuing what we do best, I have a unit where you and your fleet are needed. One of my commanders recently lost his second, you will be there to fill in that role until we return from our unit on Earth.” 

Another battlefleet. Another five-hundred years or so, and the war would probably be over by then. Even though Deadlock wanted to take out his anger immediately (which he did on the seating room outside)

What bothered Deadlock was that even Megatron was sometimes underestimated his capabilities.

It did not take long for Megatron to reaffirm his approval for Deadlock, as was expected of the holder of the perfect Decepticon success story.

One thing that has always followed the mech around was that many had strong opinions on him, Deadlock was aware of the reputation he’d earned of being one of the cruelest commanders alive at that point of the war. Many of the con’s he’s worked with would argue that what they said about him was only half true; while usually a little moody, his normal personality could be charismatic if you didn’t stay long enough to experience the wild unpredictability of his emotional states.

People,  _ Decepticons  _ didn’t trust Deadlock, disliked the psychotic look in his optics when his rage began to pendulum, triggered by sometimes nothing particular, but which was always especially prevalent during battle. 

For his soldiers, Deadlock was both beautiful to watch and horrifying as he occasionally completely lost it during fights. More often than not, he abandoned forethought for frenzy.

But there was one idea, one consuming mentality he embodied that kept mech’s respecting him regardless of their opinions of Deadlock’s habits.

Destruction is necessary for salvation.

Turmoil waddled forward, holding his arm aloft to circumvent any damage from small bursts of energy escaping from his cannon due to overuse. 

“Follow me, be ready for hiding Autobots. Try to capture them alive, a few will be saved for parts.” Turmoil reminded the soldiers that had followed from different directions of exploring and pillaging the small village they’ve landed close to.

They were tracking down the last few Autobots who based their unit here among another race of organics. Nothing unusual.

They thought the job was already done, with several prisoners already thrown into the brig of the ship and the others ripped to pieces.

The wet and flayed organic carcass of something underneath Turmoils pede made a hideous squelch. Tsking, Deadlock dropped heavily, albeit gracefully, down from a ravaged building he’d been running through himself, smoking pistols overlapping his captain’s smog. 

Because Deadlock used more of a walk and shoot method of combat, the lithe speedster frame that he had was mostly taken for granted, but that day he’d ran circles around the fleet, sometimes from more than ten miles away. Solitude was good.

“Be careful, that’s slippery. I learned the hard way” Deadlock breathed, still on a high of genocide.

Turmoil merely cranked his helm his way,

“I am not prone to slipping with the kind of build I have”  
Over time, Deadlock had learned that that’s what Turmoil’s humor sounded like. Most didn’t know him well enough to recognize a joke, but Deadlock was in a position that stuck him with the tank for hours, sometimes days at a time, so idle conversation was inevitable. It’s made them close enough to familiarize each other of their habits, their ideologies. 

He was on the verge of treating Turmoil to some real humor when he saw something glint in the corner of his visual feed, he ticked his head, ember facial plates blocking most of his grotesquely amused face from the view of their fleet.

“Turmoil,” he spat a great hock of energon to the side,

“Re-calibrate your canon and heighten you power magnitude, because I think we missed a spot.”

When the smoke and dust cleared from the dry planet they were on, guns were already pointed in their direction, they were suddenly rained upon by a small wall of fire. 

Their enemy was attempting to gain on them, but they were not even close to being evenly matched if this was all they had. Soon, their technique of cornering the Autobot’s paid off so much that they could get inside the makeshift base they’d finally found after hours of looking.

“You and your captain are both just big brutes!!” One brave mech yelled at Turmoil and Deadlock at the entrance as the two manually opened the door with their strength.

Once Turmoil and Deadlock were able to walk inside, the mech was held down by some soldiers, screaming as their face was shot off, bit by bit. When the gun’s ammo ran out, a Decepticon with free hands lunged to claw out their processor, digging into the face as if he was unburrying it from dirt. 

Deadlock laughed airily, listening to the scene they’d left outside.

So much for live prisoners. 

Turmoil was receiving a speech from some green vehicular Autobot or another, saying the same old thing about how they despised them and how they’ve lost in the beginning. In the heat of the moment, the bot didn’t notice Turmoils arm initiating a charge, an acrid stench filled the air as the canon gathered power. Several of their men who’d made it into the Autobot base shifted to avoid the thunderous blast of the canon aimed towards the legs of the blabbering mech. 

Deadlock left them to turn towards some soldiers he found huddled in a room inside the base, two Medics. 

“You guys don’t want to fight? Oh…

Oh well. Shoulda joined the Decepticons, huh?” he mused, poking his glossa out through his dentae to get a decent aim at their sparks, several organics ran out of the way at the sight of the horrified expressions on the medic’s faces.

“Deadlock!! Spare those medics, we will need someone to make repairs.” He caught sight of Turmoil hauling the green mech over his shoulder.

The mech slung over his shoulder moaned “You can’t do this...I’m a scientist…” 

Deadlock nodded, and ordered the medics outside.

Their team left a pile of bodies left tossed down, destined to be covered by sand overtime by the nearby dunes.

Turmoil was carrying two disfigured offlined mechs over his shoulder next to Deadlock, who was jabbing a disheartened crowd forward with the muzzle of his pistol. 

Back in the unsightly scene, their crew were busy raiding the for anything useful to them, energon, weapons, anything. He took one last look at the destroyed grounds they covered, finally relaxing.

There was no shame in admitting that they had a few good run together, him and Turmoil, despite the captains failures. The tank exudes physical power in a way that was unassuming. 

Autobot’s tend to underestimate him, they take one look at the gangster-esque Decepticon and figure he’s one way, when all he does is sit back and watch them try to win the same way, everytime. He leans on the element of distraction and surprise. It worked for him.

Was it tactical? Yes, absolutely. But it was also passive. 

Turmoil was fine just fragging around on his little ship, but Deadlock always looked at the big picture. 

“See why I said no more crewmates, Deadlock.”  
“I appreciate the sentiment, but most of these soldiers aren’t going to make quality slag.”

“You are too quick to guess”

“I could say the same about you, Turmoil”

No reply.

All the times that turmoil preferred to say nothing probably made Deadlock the most talkative mech on their ship. It was all about  _ morale _ . 

Resting his arms behind his back, Deadlock spotted his crew members who were having a little bit of entertainment pushing around one of the Autobot prisoners, which already seemed to be experiencing the last moments of their life, telling by their undulating bio-lights.

He approached, raising his chin with an air of interest.

“I see you’re about to finish the job, can I give you guys a hand?” 

Before Deadlock rested his foot delicately on the back of the Autobot’s head, he got someone to get to shove cement rubble far into their mouth.

He gestured swiftly to them with three other mechs watching. 

“I suggest you get it done quickly, like this,” when his voice was drowned out the incessant whimpering and crying of the individual below him, he shushed them like how a guardian would do to a sparkling “there, there, like I said…” he raised one enormous pede “I’ll make it quick”

Upon receiving the kick to the back of the helm, the mech choked on a gurgle that would of been a scream if they’re disintegrating dentae weren’t locked around the rubble. 

Deadlock’s eyes slitted when there was still light within the mech so he kicked again until there was a dent.

He put his hands on his hips as he heard a Decepticon go “Awww, woah! That was a nasty way to do it!” and shielded their optics from the Autobot.

He chose not to be annoyed at whoever said that.

“That was frustrating...” he put a hand to his spark “may he find the right path in the next life, am I right guys?” dismissing the group around him, Deadlock laughed, sadistic and jovial, until a nervous mech approached him “Uh... Deadlock?” the general turned with a frown

“ Turmoil wants to speak with you…?”

The dark expression on Deadlocks face startled the soldier into backing away a few steps to jog meekly back to the pack, just missing the unhail of dirt Deadlock kicked up to get the energon off his pede.

“You alright? He gets a little scary when he’s like that huh” said a gruff voice  
“Huh?” The skittish decepticon looked at the red visored fellow he was talking to.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “It was just my turn to get his attention...”

“Ever feel like he has a circuit or two loose in his processor?”

“All the time… I’m glad it’s not just me.”

They watched, along with the rest of the squad as their second commander stalked away towards the form of the battleship.

Deadlock lost his only chance to return to the Nemesis to the job of being the second commander to Turmoil. _ _

Visor and field inscrutable--everything about the captain made it was all too easy to reflect one’s own feelings onto him, which Turmoil historically used to his advantage in many aspects. If Deadlock was fire, Turmoil was ice.

The commander was waiting for him inside. 

“Deadlock. You and I will talk about our next course of action now that we have the prisoners, where we shall put them for now.” Turmoil lifted his canon to gesture, now cumbersome in the context of only communicating. 

“No, that’s not a good idea” Deadlock replied abruptly, not in the mood to humor Turmoil’s plan to spare any of the mech’s they had, none of which he already knew were of no use to them.

“I am the commander of this ship, Deadlock. You have no say.” That was a returning argument between the two at this point.

Deadlock poked at the controls he’d left online just before having some ‘play time’ with the others, not bothering to acknowledge his superior just yet, choosing to enjoy his commander’s disapproving field for a little while longer instead.

“You are being difficult again today I see. My patience is running out.”

The black mech picked his dentae with a claw as he pulled up a new data input.

“In fact, while we’re on the subject, I think it’s time you learned your lesson…” he says with not a hint in his voice to warn Deadlock of what he was about to do.

A choke escaped from Deadlock’s vents, causing a thin rev to cough out from his systems from being squeezed in the throat cables. 

“I demand your obedience.” Turmoil rumbled robotically,

“Your over-glorified story of coming from the streets isn’t going to help you here, _ petulant brat. _ ” 

Deadlock started to squirm asTurmoils grip actually started to shake with rage, he started to panic as several of his sensory inputs were slipping offline, grimacing as his neck cables were squeezed longer, crushing more, making it guaranteed to make it hard to vent and circulate energon for the next vorn.

As a last minute resort before he went offline, Deadlock attempted to shoot Turmoil in the face to make him let go but instead, the energy blasted somewhere else in their command room.

He threw Deadlock down.

While Turmoil silently fiddled with his hand servos, the black mech refused to not hide his face towards the floor, unable to push away the few memories unearthing themselves in his processor from his youth.

“Go bring me the prisoners.” 

“oh...sorry….s’this the worst you can do?” He said, much more static than he’d hoped.

“You and I both know the answer to that question.” 

The only thing that stopped him from getting up to kill Turmoil was that he had a plan that would be more satisfying, one that he’d been saving up for a rainy day.

The following morning, Deadlock stood atop a table to command his fleet’s attention. 

“Brothers,” he began, holding out his hands  amicably 

“I’ve been your longest standing second commander, I’ve granted you more guidance than you’ve ever had. Tell me,” he looks down, beckoning them with a finger.

“Time is being wasted, isn’t it? The war is not going to be won by only following Turmoil’s rhetoric, who insists on fragging around on plants for days at a time. We could have went through the Autobots three times the pace. Take less prisoners, more soldiers, good and fearless Decepticons who need us as much as we need them!”

“What do you suppose  _ we _ do, if you’re always so unhappy with th’captain, Deadlock?” the red visored con asked with a stubborn frown.

Deadlock stiffened his shoulders, scrunching his nose in disdain from the interruption 

“Let’s riot!” He roared.

“Our own ship?”

“Get him to understand,” he confirmed, plates flared.

It all just went downhill from there.

Following Deadlock’s ethic was somehow just not as appealing to the half of the crew he’d addressed. Several of them were even shaking their heads. Maybe he should of chose a rainier day.

The black mech stopped mid sentence of a speech as his superior edged into the room in a sideways fashion. 

“He’s trying to get us to execute all the prisoners,” one of the soldiers with ugly, purple paint said from behind Turmoil at the door.

Deadlock’s face opened up in surprise.

“Snitch.” he hissed at the mech, who wore a slag-eating grin.

Turmoil walked up to Deadlock. For once, his visor brimmed with bright light that Deadlock’s own passions couldn’t override. If you look a person in the optics long enough, they were going to attack you, it was instinctual. He knew well that he should run, but his commander’s anger held him in a way that paralyzed him.

Turmoil gave him one big whopping sucker punch in the mouth, several on-lookers hooted and hollered over the sound of his face plate being mashed unattractively into his jaw. 

He rolled onto his knees towards the commander to avoid hitting the floor, but he failed to lunge fast enough to avoid a side attack from one of the other members.

Deadlock catarwalled as pain seared down through his arm, someone had stabbed him through the forearm and into the floor with their sword.

Turmoil was too heavy to lower himself to face level, so instead he simply bent at the hips to stare at him. 

“Throw him into the brigg.” Turmoil said through some incredibly loud venting.

“Commander Deadlock: the next time you pull something like this, you will be executed.”

Deadlock stared after Turmoil for as long as he was able, grunting and seething with hatred as three other’s dragged his limping form away.

He shrugged the mechs hands off his shoulders and got in the cell with as much dignity as he could.

He could shoot the cell bars off, but of course his weapons were disabled. Then again, sometimes the past prisoners would rip pieces of themselves off to try to use them to escape, maybe he could use one of those. 

After a little while of obsessively attempting to come up with a plan to leave, he sank down onto the floor to wait for his punishment to end.

He spent hours of sulking on his aft until a weak voice droned from the adjacent jail cell from his.

“What happened to your arm?” 

He just growled and rolled his optics at the green legless Autobot that had spoken.

His wound hurt, but he refused to let the prisoner know that kind of information. Just because they were in the same cage did not grant them the same status as Deadlock to the Decepticons.

Seconds later, he looked up for the first time and caught the eyes of the two medics he’d captured glowering at him from the chamber across from his.

Deadlock gave the green prisoner a tired look, “Silence, Autobot. You’re dead to me.”

“As soon as my friend’s here put back my legs, I’ll be saying the same to you, Deadlock. Maybe I’ll straighten your face for you like you did to my friend.” 

Deadlock’s finials twitched slightly at a noisy thud, one of the medics was pushing against the bars to talk to him. This may as well happen.

“You’re Deadlock huh? Why are you here..?” they asked, from what Deadlock could see now that he was paying attention,they were significantly malnourished from being starved by their ship.

“I don’t know what you mean.” he said, curling into a tight hunch.

“Deadlock,” they continued “I’ve heard of you, I didn’t think you’d be with Turmoil.”

The bigger medic nudged their arm hard “ _ shut up _ , don’t talk to him”. 

All around him, Deadlock was surrounded with the weak, blue optic lights of his enemies.

All they could see was the Autobot version of the boogeyman in the corner.

When Deadlock was let out, he miraculously wasn’t stripped of his title, though he almost had none of the same benefits as before.

However, one order he managed to give is to get rid of those slagging Autobots he’d spoken to in the brig. “Don’t let them rot in there, Turmoil’s precious parts will just end up going to waste.” 

Deadlock would continue to take his chances with taking over the ship until turmoil found out. He refused to give up on his crew. All they needed to do is decide if they wanted to be winners or losers. 

\------------------Memory Share Complete.-------------------

  
  
  



End file.
